


In Search of Lore

by BastardPrince



Series: Gansey Week 2019 [5]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: First Meetings, Forests, Friendship, Gansey Week 2019, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-08-13 09:20:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20171884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BastardPrince/pseuds/BastardPrince
Summary: Once the man is standing, brushing the debris off his jacket and pants, Gansey continues.“Sir, are you alright?”---Gansey meets Malory.





	In Search of Lore

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: friendship / family / threads of fate

Gansey arrived in Wales yesterday evening. He allotted himself a full day and a half for getting settled and finding supplies, but arriving in Wales, he finds himself unable to delay his enthusiasm. 

Equipped with his new hiking gear; 40 litre backpack that buckles across his chest and waist, dowsing rod, EMF meter, rain jacket, hiking boots, wool socks, satellite GPS, a box of protein bars, and insulated water bottle; Gansey sets out the next morning at dawn. 

He buys breakfast at the only shop in town that was open so early in the morning, and even the bowl of bland porridge couldn’t dampen his spirits. 

He had picked this small town because the access point to the nearby forest was less than a kilometre away from his hotel room.

Gansey made it to the gravel parking lot in fifteen minutes. It was empty except for a single blue sedan that looked as if it belonged in the 90’s. He consults the water-stained map by the parking lot to make sure he’s in the right place. Using his GPS, Gansey logs his coordinates so that he can map his path. 

With an air of absolute confidence, Gansey walks into the woods.

* * *

Two and a half hours later, Gansey isn’t feeling quite so confident.

He’s already eaten two of his protein bars and the bugs have been feasting on a different source of protein, which, unfortunately, is Gansey. A mosquito the size of a small bird flies in front of his face, buzzing frenetically. 

What’s more disheartening is that Gansey has yet to see a single sign of the ruins he is looking for. According to his research, the derelict village should be very close to his coordinates. 

Gansey makes a deal with himself: if he can’t find any sign of the village in the next hour, he’ll turn around and head back to his hotel. It won’t be the end of his search, but he’ll need to do some more research. Perhaps he could consult the locals.

He begins walking again, scouring the underbrush for stone foundations. Gansey hasn’t moved more than a hundred metres when he sees the body.

Well, body might not be the correct term for it. _Body_ implies dead, and this man is very much alive. He’s lying prostrate on the ground, face tilted away from Gansey. But the man is moving his arms, pressing his palms to different areas around his head. And Gansey can hear him muttering to himself. 

Unsure of how to proceed in this situation, Gansey clears his throat, hoping the man will be alerted to his presence. The man must be very absorbed in what he’s doing, because he doesn’t seem to hear Gansey.

“Sir?” Gansey tries. 

At this, the man stops speaking. He sits up.

Once the man is standing, brushing the debris off his jacket and pants, Gansey continues.

“Sir, are you alright?”

“Hmm? Alright? Oh yes, quite.”

The man is now looking at Gansey. He’s older than Gansey had anticipated for someone who was lying face-down in a forest. There are a few small twigs in his grey hair. 

“And who might you be?” 

“I’m Richard Gansey, but most people just call me Gansey.”

“Well! Pleased to make your acquaintance, Gansey. I’m Roger Malory.”

Malory tromps over to Gansey, hand outstretched, and shakes his hand firmly. 

“If you don’t mind my asking,” Gansey says, “What were you doing just now? On the ground, that is.”

Malory thinks about for a moment, as if he’s not quite sure of the answer himself.

“A colleague of mine led me to believe that if one were to lie facing north in these woods with one’s ear and palms to the ground, one would feel a certain current of energy flowing beneath them. Suffice to say, that was utter tosh.”

Gansey nods, thinking carefully about what Malory has just told him.

“Since fate has brought you to this very spot,” Malory says, “Would you be averse to a cup of tea? I’ve had more than enough of this forest.”

Deciding that Malory might be able to help him with his search, Gansey agrees. He can return to the forest later. And next time he’ll bring bug spray. 

* * *

The men become fast friends on the way back. Gansey offers Malory a protein bar, which Mallory declines. The look on his face suggests Gansey had offered him a particularly large spider. 

Back in the parking lot, Gansey learns that the outdated Toyota Corolla belongs to Malory. 

Malory inquires about Gansey’s car.

“Oh, I walked from town.”

Under his breath, Malory mutters something about youth and their 'unbridled vigour'. Gansey doesn’t point out that Malory had walked several times that distance to get out of the forest.

Seated in the passenger seat of the car, Gansey turns to Malory.

“The energy you were talking about before, the one that you were trying to feel in the ground? You were talking about ley lines, right?”

Malory glances sideways at Gansey.

“Yes,” he says. “I must admit, I did not expect someone so young to know about ley lines. You must be looking for something as well.”

“It’s more of a some_one_ than a something.”

Malory waits for Gansey to elaborate.

“Say, Malory,” Gansey pauses. “What do you know about dead Welsh kings?”


End file.
